The Kindness of Strangers
by Kittenmommy
Summary: An injured Gabriel finds himself in an unfamiliar environment. Post Prophecy movies. COMPLETE!
1. Welcome Aboard!

"The Kindness of Strangers"

Chapter 1

"Welcome Aboard!"

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: _The Prophecy_ belongs to Gregory Widen and I'm not making any money from this.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Despite repeatedly e mailing The Powers That Be here on FFN, there is no category for the _The Prophecy_ series of movies. So, I guess I'll post them here.

* * *

Having received his instructions from The Boss, Gabriel took wing and descended through the Celestial Spheres until he reached the plane on which Earth was located.

The part of the Earth that he was meant to visit was now experiencing night, and he saw few lights in the vast ocean below: Ships passing in the night.

Though no human could have seen it at this distance, Gabriel's sharp eyes picked out the coastline of the place where he was headed, and he swooped lower.

He had always enjoyed flying at night, the feeling of the wind in his hair and the glorious sight of the stars up in the Heavens. And now that he was back in the fold, The Boss had trusted him with a very important mission to deliver a very important Message. He was once again doing what he'd been created to do, and he had never been happier.

Suddenly, his head came up as he caught the hint of a familiar scent, and he reached for the dagger sheathed in his boot.

Too late. The other angel slammed into him from above. Gabriel glimpsed the flash of a knife in his attacker's hand and made a grab for it. His wings collided with those of his attacker, and for a moment he was sure that they would both go down into the ocean in a tangle of flapping wings and flailing limbs.

But no, he managed to right himself. He could still hear his attacker's wings beating somewhere overhead, and he managed to get his dagger out of his boot as he swooped upwards, giving a shrill cry of warning, of intent to do harm.

He heard a dull _thud_ and there was a sudden pain on the top of his head. Then everything went black.

* * *

The first thing to register was the voices. People – humans – talking.

The next thing to register was that he was wet, that most of his body was immersed in water and that his wings were soaked, pulling him down.

His cheek and elbows were resting on something cool and smooth, and his arms were up above his head, seemingly on solid ground… and keeping him from sliding completely into the water. The mingled smell of saltwater and chlorine was overpowering.

Gabriel opened his eyes.

"He's awake! He's awake!" human voices murmured all around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a red-haired woman in a long black evening gown cross herself, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He couldn't seem to orient himself, couldn't figure out where he could possibly be. He had been flying over the ocean, but now he seemed to be on land… but _where_?

A silver-haired man dressed in a white uniform came hurrying over. He knelt near Gabriel's head and set a little black bag down next to him.

"Well, hello there," the man said softly, his British-accented voice full of wonder. "I'm Doctor Roger Langford. And _you've_ apparently had _quite_ a fall." The doctor reached out hesitantly. "May I… I want to examine you. Is that all right?"

Gabriel opened his mouth to reply, to say that he would be just fine, but nothing came out… at least, nothing that the awestruck humans all around him could understand.

He realized dimly that he was speaking in his own language, the language of the angels, much of which was beyond the range of human hearing. He shut his mouth and closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts and willing his vocal cords to behave themselves. He was God's Messenger, after all; communicating with these people was his very reason for being.

He opened his eyes and looked up at the man in white who still knelt patiently beside him.

"Where I am?" he finally managed.

"You're aboard the Carnival _Liberty_, on the Lido Deck, half in and half out of the Tivoli Pool."

Ah, that explained a lot right there. He raised his head and tried to pull himself out of the water.

"No, stay still," the doctor advised, reaching toward him but still not quite daring to touch. "Something may be broken."

Gabriel experienced a sudden moment of absolute horror. "I can't move my wings."

"I shouldn't wonder!" the doctor said briskly. "They're completely underwater, quite soaked, and probably very heavy! I doubt we'll be able to lift you out of there." He turned his head and spoke to someone over his shoulder. "I think we're going to have to drain this pool, please!"

"Right away, Doctor!" a female voice replied, and there was a sudden flurry of activity as people dressed in red, white and blue tee shirts and matching shorts scurried about, presumably to fulfill Doctor Langford's order.

Even more distressing than his inability to move his wings was the sudden realization that his connection with The Word was gone, switched off like these humans would turn off a radio.

Maybe it was due to his recent knock on the head. Surely The Boss hadn't deserted him for merely being unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time… had He?

Meanwhile, Doctor Langford had turned his attention back to his unlikely patient. "Do you hurt anywhere?"

"My head… and my pride!"

Doctor Langford gave a short laugh. "All right, so we can assume nothing's broken."

"Yeah," Gabriel agreed. "Probably not." _Except for my connection to The Word!_ he thought but did not say; no use in giving up more Mysteries to these humans than necessary.

"Good," the doctor said, turning away to address the crowd. "We'll need to get some people in there to hold his wings up as the water drains," the doctor instructed. "Otherwise, their weight will drag him right back down into the pool." Gabriel heard splashes as people jumped in and swam over.

"Hey," a man greeted him, not yet daring to get too close. "My name's Gary, and I'm going to grab your wing… is that OK?"

Gabriel would rather not have had his wings touched, but he couldn't really see any alternative. The water was already beginning to recede, and his waterlogged wings were indeed pulling him downwards now that there wasn't enough water to keep them afloat.

"Yeah, sure," he agreed, not sounding at all happy about the prospect.

Gary grinned. "I'll be gentle," he promised. Though this man didn't know it, he had made an apt jest, for angels only allowed their wings to be touched by other angels… and then only during the most intimate interactions between a pair that was especially close.

"I'm Ben, and I'll be gentle too," a male voice said on his other side. "May I?" Gabriel turned his head and saw another man, this one in evening dress, standing near him with a questioning expression on his face. _Standing there. Well, this pool must not be very deep,_ Gabriel thought. The angel was tall for a human male, but that didn't matter much when one was being dragged down by a gigantic pair of saturated wings.

"Yeah, sure," he said with a sigh of resignation. "Do your worst."

Gabriel closed his eyes, trying to shut out the feeling of alien hands on his sensitive wings. It was a humiliating violation, and he bore it as best he could. He really had no choice, unless he wanted to sit on the bottom of an empty swimming pool until his wings dried out enough for him to be able to fly.

At last, the pool was completely drained, and other hands reached down to help pull him out.

"Up you go," Doctor Langford said with a grunt of effort as he hauled Gabriel out with the help of Gary and Ben. "That's better, isn't it?" the doctor said in a soothing tone as he helped Gabriel sit upright, with his feet dangling in the empty pool and his soaked wings carefully spread out behind him.

"Yeah, it's better," he agreed faintly. "Thank you."

Now that he was upright, Gabriel could clearly see the bright strands of festive lights strung high above the Lido Deck. Craning his neck to look higher, he saw the distinctive red, white and blue funnel that identified this vessel as a Carnival cruise ship. These were familiar sights in the night, but they were sights that he was accustomed to seeing from high above. No wonder he hadn't been able to figure out where he was when he'd woken.

The doctor moved to sit beside him and held up his own hand, like a puzzle. "How many fingers?" he asked.

Gabriel blinked. "What?"

"How many fingers am I holding up?" the doctor repeated patiently.

Gabriel frowned; he knew a trick question when heard one. "Two fingers… and a thumb."

Doctor Langford's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Ah. Well, that wasn't _quite_ what… all right, good. Now, follow my finger…" He held up his index finger and moved it back and forth in front of Gabriel's face. "Good, good." He reached into his black bag and produced a penlight. "Look straight ahead," he instructed, shining the little light directly into Gabriel's right eye.

"Hey!" he protested, pushing the human's hand away. "That's bright!"

"I know," Doctor Langford sympathized. "But I need to examine you. You have a head injury… you're bleeding."

"I am?" Surprised, Gabriel reached up to touch the top of his head and was even more shocked when his hand came away wet with blood.

"I want to be certain that you don't have a concussion," the doctor continued in that same reasonable tone.

Gabriel waved away the human's concern. "Aaaah, I don't have a concussion! And even if I do, it's no big deal. It'll go away on its own."

Though he was out of the water, he was still uncomfortably wet. His wings were soaked, his clothes were drenched, and he could feel that his boots were full of water. He brought his right foot up and pulled off a tall black boot, dumped the small amount of water into the empty pool and tossed the boot aside. He repeated the process with his left boot, and made a little noise: _Hnhhhuh_.

"What's wrong?" the doctor asked.

"Lost my knife," he said shortly. "It was one of my favorites, too." He tugged at his clothing. "Wish I could get this stuff off…" he muttered.

When visiting Earth in the guise of a mortal, Gabriel favored a long black coat and black leather pants… but not when acting as God's Messenger, and especially not when delivering highly important Messages to highly important humans. No, at times like these, he had to look the part.

So tonight he had chosen to wear a long royal blue cloak brocaded with silver thread over a loose black silk shirt and trousers… and the whole thing was now likely ruined by his recent dunk in chlorinated saltwater. His trumpet hung from a silver chain link belt around his waist, and – miracle of miracles! – he hasn't lost it when he'd plummeted to Earth. He detached the trumpet from his belt and absently dumped water out of it, and then set it down close by to dry.

Two men suddenly pushed their way through the crowd and hurried over: A man in a white uniform similar to the doctor's, and a man in black with the white collar of a priest.

Both of the new arrivals gaped down at Gabriel in astonishment, and then hastily crossed themselves.

"This is the ship's captain, Giovanni LaRosa," Doctor Langford introduced. "And the ship's chaplain, Father Francis Xavier."

The priest knelt, not daring to get too close. "It's such an honor… to – to have you here… to have you grace us with your presence – "

Gabriel ran a hand through his wet hair. "Yeah… Francis. See, this little visit wasn't exactly my idea. I got attacked."

The two new arrivals looked properly horrified and crossed themselves again.

"Attacked? But who would _dare_?" the captain asked in a thick Italian accent.

Gabriel snorted. "Plenty of people, believe me."

Captain LaRosa was outraged. "Never!"

"Oh yeah, there are lots of angels out for my blood," Gabriel assured him in an offhanded tone.

Father Xavier was shocked. "It was another angel who did this to you?"

"Yeah… Jones… he whacked me on the head pretty good."

The priest looked puzzled. "Please forgive me… I'm not familiar with an angel named Jones."

Gabriel almost laughed. "That's what Zophael's been calling himself lately… Zophael Jones. Stupid, huh?"

The priest didn't quite dare to comment on this. "And may I… may we know _your_ name?" he asked, his head still bowed in reverence.

Gabriel smiled ruefully. "This isn't how I usually do things… usually I introduce myself right off the bat – you know…" He spread his hands in an expansive gesture. "_Be not afraid! Behold, I am Gabriel, blah blah blah, _and all that other stuff." He let his hands fall and shrugged, his huge wet white wings rising and falling slightly with the movement of his shoulders. "But you guys aren't really getting me at my best."

A shocked murmur went through the crowd: _Oh, _Gabriel_, he's _Gabriel_, look, there's his horn – sitting right there! That's the angel _Gabriel_…_

The priest gasped and turned pale. "How may I serve you?" he asked, bowing his head even lower.

Gabriel cocked his head. "You know what I'd really like? I'd _really_ like a cup of coffee. With cream and sugar if you got it."

* * *

Someone was sent off into Emil's restaurant to fetch the coffee. While Gabriel was waiting, Doctor Langford knelt up and probed the top of his patient's head, muttering vaguely about stitches.

"Stitches? I don't need stitches!" he protested.

"You may be an angel, but _I'm_ the doctor," the human replied rather tartly. "So _I'll_ be the judge of that."

"How dare you speak to him like that?" Father Xavier demanded.

"Aaah, that's OK," Gabriel said quickly. "I don't stand on formality too much, and I like people who say what they mean straight out."

"Because you're like that yourself, aren't you?" the doctor guessed.

"Yeah," Gabriel agreed. "I've been told I could be more tactful."

The red-haired woman in the long black dress who had been crying earlier appeared at his side, bending down to offer him a steaming mug of coffee.

"Thanks," he said, taking it. She gave a wordless little nod and withdrew, clearly overwhelmed by even this brief contact with him.

"Let's clear all of these people away, please," Doctor Langford said briskly. "All right?" Immediately, the captain and the crew began working to disperse the crowd. "And let's close this area off completely until we get him moved somewhere else," the doctor continued. "Gossip's sure to get around, and I don't want gawkers."

A little red-haired girl in a bathing suit and shorts came forward holding a big blue beach towel emblazoned with the words, "The Fun Ships of Carnival" and the cruise line's logo.

"Here," she offered shyly, holding the towel out to Gabriel. He noticed that she had a bright pink glittery flower painted on one cheek. "You're all wet."

Gabriel smiled at her as he took the towel. "Thanks." He wiped his face and scrubbed his hair vigorously, staining the towel with blood.

"You can't keep it, though," she continued in a serious voice. "They'll charge you a whole _twenty-two dollars_ if you don't bring it back." Her eyes widened as she contemplated being fined such a vast sum of money.

"Robbery," Gabriel agreed with a completely straight face. "Thanks for the tip, Brigid."

"Of course you can keep the towel!" the captain said immediately.

The priest spoke at the same moment: "They can charge it to me!"

But neither the angel nor the child was listening.

"How did you know my name?" the little girl asked curiously.

"I know _everyone's_ name," Gabriel told her, tweaking her nose and making her giggle. "I knew you before you were ever even born."

"And your name is Gabriel," she said thoughtfully. "Are you the angel we learned about in Sunday school? The one who told Mary that Jesus was coming?"

"Yeah, that'd be me," he agreed with a slight smile, and was oddly pleased to see her deep green eyes widen in wonder.

"All right, little lady," Doctor Langford said briskly, giving her a pat on the head. "Go and find your mum." He rummaged in his black bag, producing a little bottle of hand sanitizer and a pair of rubber gloves in a sterile paper wrapper.

"She's right over there," Brigid said, pointing to the red-haired woman who'd brought the coffee. "And that's my dad," she continued, pointing at one of the men who'd helped Gabriel out of the pool – Ben, the dark-haired man in evening dress.

"I thought I asked for this area to be cleared," the doctor said over his shoulder.

"Aaaah, let 'em stay," Gabriel said, and nothing further was said about them leaving. "Ow!" he suddenly exclaimed, flinching away as Doctor Langford cleaned his wound with something smelly that he'd gotten from his bag. "That stings!"

"I had to have stitches once," Brigid told him. "I fell and hurt my knee." She pointed to the scar, a long silver line against her newly tanned skin. "It hurt when they sewed me up. Mommy held my hand." She frowned, thinking. "Do you want me to hold your hand?" Before he could answer, she plopped down next to him and took the hand that wasn't holding the coffee mug.

"Brigid, for Heaven's sake, don't pester the angel!" her mother scolded in an Irish brogue. She came striding over, clearly intending to drag the child away.

Gabriel looked up at her. "Maureen… don't worry about it."

Her eyes grew huge and she put a hand over her mouth, awed that the Archangel Gabriel himself had called her by name. She crossed herself and retreated to stand with her husband.

"Hold still, please, Gabriel," Doctor Langford said pleasantly. "Now, you're going to feel a little stick, and then a slight burning… and then – hopefully – nothing else until long after I've finished stitching you up."

"You know… Roger… you don't have to do this. I'll heal fine on my own."

"Quiet now, I'm trying to concentrate," the doctor chided.

With a sigh, Gabriel finished his coffee and set the mug down on the ground beside him, near his trumpet. "I know someone with hair like yours," he told the little girl, absently stroking her coppery red curls.

"Who?"

"His name's Simon."

"Where does he live?"

Gabriel smiled. "In Heaven."

The child's eyes widened. "Is he an angel too?"

"Yeah."

Brigid frowned. "Why did that other angel hit you on the head? Doesn't he like you?"

"Not much," he replied shortly. "But that's OK… I don't care if people like me or not."

"_I_ like you," she told him seriously.

He was surprised, but quickly recovered. "I like you, too."

"Good. We're friends!" she said, beaming happily and giving his hand a squeeze.

Gabriel saw that the girl's mother – Maureen – had gone even paler than her usual milky-white color, and smiled to himself. He knew that never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that a daughter of hers would befriend the Archangel Gabriel… let alone under such bizarre circumstances.

"You talk like Daddy," the child said.

"Yeah?" Gabriel replied, not sure what she meant but going along with it.

"All right," Doctor Langford said, snapping off his rubber gloves. "We're all done here. How's your head feel?"

"It doesn't," he said, reaching up with his free hand.

"No, no – don't touch!" The doctor scolded, grabbing Gabriel's wrist. "The lidocaine'll wear off in a little bit, and then – "

Gabriel felt a tingling sensation on the top of his head. "I think it's wearing off right now."

Doctor Langford nodded. "You've a fast metabolism, haven't you?"

"I guess," Gabriel replied with a shrug.

"Hmm. Well, here's some antibiotic ointment – " the doctor pressed several small packets into Gabriel's hand, " – I've bandaged your head, but you'll need to change the bandage daily. Now that the lidocaine's wearing off, come and see me if the pain's too much and I'll give you something. You won't need to have the stitches out – they'll dissolve on their own as your body absorbs them. Don't take aspirin or drink alcohol for at least a week, all right?"

Gabriel nodded and pulled his hand out of Brigid's. "Sure." He put on his boots, swung his legs up out of the pool and stood up a bit unsteadily. After a moment, he flapped his wings, shaking as much water out of them as he could; they were still quite wet, but no worse then when he'd get caught in the rain. "I gotta take off, Kiddo," he told the little girl. She nodded silently, her eyes wide.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Doctor Langford said, rising. "I think we should see about getting you a stateroom for the night."

"I'll see to that personally!" the captain promised, hurrying off.

"But I can't stay here – " Gabriel began.

The doctor overrode him. "Listen to me, Gabriel. You've got a head injury, and could possibly have a concussion – "

"Aaaah, I'm fine," he said dismissively. "Anyway… I have an important Message I have to deliver, you know?"

"I'm sure you do," Doctor Langford agreed. "But surely it can wait a few more hours, until you've rested a bit and eaten something – "

"Nope. I gotta go." _And maybe once I take wing, I'll be able to hear The Word again…_

He felt sure he was forgetting something, and patted himself like a human trying to locate the pocket where he'd put his car keys. He frowned. "Where's my – " He spotted his trumpet, still sitting on the edge of the pool, right where he'd put it. "Ahhh _ha_!"

He bent to retrieve it, and everything went black.

* * *

ADDITIONAL AUTHOR'S NOTES: The Carnival _Liberty_ is real cruise ship and belongs to Carnival Cruise Lines. I didn't put this at the beginning because I wanted Gabriel's landing spot to be a surprise to you, my Faithful Readers. Captain LaRosa, Father Xavier, Doctor Langford, and the various other crewmembers and guests are all my own invention. 


	2. A Good Gossip Session

"The Kindness of Strangers"

Chapter 2

"A Good Gossip Session"

* * *

Gabriel heard voices – an Irishwoman, an American man, and an Italian man – arguing in furious whispers. An Englishman butted in – _be quiet, for God's sake!_

_Blackness._

He was lying on something soft.

He was on his stomach, his head on a pillow and turned to one side and his wings unfurled to their full span. Someone was pulling his boots off his feet.

"You can't undress him – it's a sin!" the Irishwoman protested.

"You said the same thing when I stretched out his wings to dry," the Englishman reminded her.

"Well, touching his wings – that's a sin too!"

"As you like," the Englishman said, unwilling to argue about it.

"And undressing him – ah, that's even _worse_!"

"It is?" The Englishman asked, amused. "Where in the Bible does it say all that?" Gabriel felt hands tugging at his cloak, trying to pull it off.

The Irishwoman was silent for a moment. "Undressing an angel… well, it _has_ to be a sin, doesn't it?" she asked rhetorically. "And he's Saint Gabriel the Archangel, too – oooo, you'll be goin' straight to Hell for this!"

"I'm a doctor," the Englishman reminded her. "So it's all right."

"But he's – "

"He's my _patient_!" the Englishman snapped, his patience finally at an end. "And lying in wet clothing certainly won't help speed his recovery along! Now, either help me figure out how to get this off him or get out of the way!"

"That's fine with me, Doctor. I want no part of this at all!"

Gabriel closed his eyes.

_Blackness._

He was being shaken awake. He opened his eyes and saw softly curling red hair.

"Simon," he murmured.

"Ah, no… 'tis only me," the Irishwoman said. He managed to focus on her face and realized that he knew her, somehow… didn't he? His eyes slipped shut.

_Blackness._

More voices. It was the Englishman and the Irishwoman again.

"When was the last time you woke him?"

"An hour ago, just as you said," she replied. "Every hour on the hour, those were your instructions."

"All right. I'll sit with him a bit – you get some rest."

_Blackness._

The Word blazed through his mind like a ribbon of fire. He opened his eyes and tried to blink the brightness away only to realize that it was sunlight coming in through a window.

He was lying facedown on a king-sized bed, with his now dry wings spread out on either side of his body. He turned his head the other way and saw Maureen, now dressed in a Carnival tee shirt and a pair of jeans, sitting in a chair by the bed, asleep.

He closed his eyes again for a moment. Yes, The Word was a constant pulse in the back of his mind, filling him, reshaping his brain, making him what he was: an angel, the Messenger of God.

The Boss hadn't deserted him after all, and he felt a moment's deep shame for ever even considering that as a possibility. Gabriel was His angel, and He would never abandon him.

He pushed himself up onto his knees, shook his wings out and folded them neatly behind him. He realized that was dressed only in a pair of blue sweatpants with red and white pinstripes on the sides, and he wondered briefly what had happened to his clothing. Carefully, so as not to wake his sleeping nurse, he got off the bed and went to examine his new surroundings.

He had been given a stateroom – a very comfortable, very large one with a picture window by the bed and a door that led out to a balcony. Near the coffee table were two armchairs with backs that looked like they'd be comfortable for perching on, as well as an L-shaped modular sofa. There was an enormous wardrobe and various other cupboards for storage. A large television was built into the wall directly over one such cupboard.

Moving through the suite, he discovered a fully equipped bar, another large closet, and a bathroom.

On the bathroom counter was a basket full of sample-sized amenities: toothpaste, disposable razors, mouthwash, toothbrushes, hand lotion, and various other toiletries.

He peered critically at his image in the mirror, frowned, and touched the white bandage on the top of his head. He pulled it off, wincing a bit as a few strands of shiny black hair were yanked out by the adhesive. He touched the top of his head, but his probing fingers found no evidence of either the wound or the stitches. He had healed completely, and was surely well enough to travel, to deliver his Message.

Unfortunately, he was dressed only in a pair of Carnival sweatpants; hardly appropriate attire for the Messenger of God. And he smelled like a chlorinated pigeon. All in all, this was not exactly the image he had hoped to present to the human he was supposed to see.

He picked up a little bar of soap in a box with the Carnival logo on it, cocked his head and stared thoughtfully at the tiny shower. Though it clearly hadn't been built with seraphim in mind, he thought there might be ways around that…

* * *

Though it had taken him nearly thirty minutes, Gabriel was clean at last.

He had rinsed the chlorinated saltwater residue out of his wings (one wing at a time), and then allowed them to drip all over the bathroom floor while he squeezed his body into the narrow little shower stall. At one point, Maureen had pounded on the bathroom door, demanding to know what he thought he was doing: _You have a _head injury_, don't you know?_

Either the door between them or concern about his condition had overridden her previous state of awestruck reverence, for she had even threatened to have a cabin steward come and break down the door if he didn't answer her.

Though he had loudly assured her that he was fine, he could even now hear her pacing around outside, complaining to Doctor Langford that he'd _locked the door and wouldn't let her in!_

With a slight smile, Gabriel wrapped one of the big white towels around his waist, ran a hand through his damp hair, and opened the door.

"Good morning, Roger… Maureen."

Maureen and Doctor Langford gaped at him in astonishment. "Sorry about the bathroom… the water on the floor. He gestured vaguely as he came out into the stateroom. "I couldn't shut the curtain… so there's water…" He shrugged. "It's a mess."

"My goodness… Gabriel. You're… you're all – " the doctor stammered, and gave a quick laugh. "You're looking much better this morning," he finally said. Behind him, Maureen bowed her head and crossed herself, her lips moving as she prayed silently.

"Yeah," Gabriel agreed. "I told you I'd be fine last night, right?"

"But… you were nearly comatose!" Doctor Langford continued, still trying to make sense of this. "I was just on the phone down in the Infirmary, trying to arrange an MRI for you!"

"Ahhh, I don't need that," Gabriel said dismissively. "I don't even know what that is. My head's fine now, all healed. Look, those stitches you gave me went away." He bent his head so that the doctor could see.

"Your body's absorbed them," he murmured, shaking his head. "Fast metabolism."

"Yeah, that's what you said last night."

"Are you hungry?" the doctor asked.

Gabriel shrugged. "Yeah, I could eat. Right now I'm more interested in what happened to my clothes."

"'Twas Doctor Langford who undressed you," Maureen put in suddenly, speaking for the first time. "I want us to be perfectly clear on that."

The doctor sighed. "I'll take all the blame for everything," he agreed. "And I was the one who stretched your wings out so they'd dry."

"I don't care about that stuff," Gabriel said dismissively. "I just need my clothes, you know?"

"Well, actually – " Doctor Langford began.

Gabriel made a guess. "That priest – Francis – he took them, didn't he?"

"Oh, he'd have _loved_ to, you can be sure!" Maureen said angrily. "But no. He wanted your beach towel – you'd bled on it and he said it's a Holy Relic."

Gabriel rolled his eyes and made an exasperated little noise at this news.

"But Ben took it," Maureen continued, sounding a bit smug. "Took it straight to the Purser's Desk and paid for it, too. So you don't have to worry about it bein' displayed at the Vatican or some other nonsense."

"As for your clothes," the doctor interrupted. "I sent them to be dry-cleaned."

"Aaaah, you didn't have to – " Gabriel began.

"You'll have them back by the time we sail," Doctor Langford assured him. "And then… well, I suppose you can be on your way."

Gabriel frowned. "We stopped somewhere?"

"That's right. We've docked at Messina, Sicily for the day."

"Ah ha! I _thought_ we weren't moving!" Gabriel said happily.

"You're right – we're not," the doctor agreed. "Today's Messina, then tomorrow's a Fun Day at Sea – "

"Which is a nice way of saying, 'you'll be trapped on the boat all day, 'cause we're sailin' to yer next port'!" Maureen put in.

Gabriel laughed. "'Fun Day at Sea' has a nicer ring to it," he agreed.

"And your personal effects are right there," Doctor Langford said, pointing at the nightstand. "I didn't let Father Xavier get his hands on any of _that_, either."

"Thanks, Roger – that was good thinking." He frowned. "Wait a minute… my trumpet – "

"I sent it to have it cleaned," the doctor said, and shrugged. "I don't know much about caring for musical instruments, but it seemed like a good idea."

"Yeah, getting dipped in a saltwater pool wouldn't be too good for it," Gabriel agreed.

"You probably don't remember much about last night, do you?"

Gabriel shook his head. "Bits and pieces. That's about it."

Doctor Langford nodded. "That's to be expected."

"You just came falling out of the sky," Maureen told him. "Ben and I had just come from dinner and a show. We'd picked up Brigid from Camp Carnival and were going for a piece of pizza when we heard some kind of shriek and next thing we knew, there you were, in the pool. Someone tried to pull you out, but yer wings were too heavy… but at least they got you halfway out so you wouldn't drown."

"And then I woke up."

She nodded. "Soon after, yeah. I was afraid you were dead, but a braver soul than I checked and said, no, you were breathing."

"When you lost consciousness again, we took you straight down to the Infirmary," Doctor Langford said, picking up the story. "But we couldn't fit you into any of the beds… the wings, you know."

Gabriel nodded. "Sure."

"And the nurses – " the doctor rolled his eyes and sighed.

"They were useless," Maureen finished.

"Yes, that about sums it up," he agreed. "You never _saw_ such carrying on, Gabriel. It was simply unbelievable."

"They're mostly Italian," Maureen added.

"They were dropping to their knees and praying… and _weeping_…" He made an exasperated noise. "I couldn't get them to do _anything_ useful! All they wanted to do was pray. So Terry – he's our cruise director – arranged for this lovely suite, and we brought you right up here. Maureen very kindly consented to help take care of you. She's as devout as they come, but at least she kept her head."

Gabriel smiled at her. "Thank you, Maureen."

She bowed her head. "I was happy to do it!"

Gabriel walked around, stopping every once in a while to inspect whatever caught his eye. There was a newsletter on the coffee table, and he picked it up to examine it. "_Carnival Capers_," he read aloud.

"That'll tell you what's happening today," the doctor informed him.

"All the news that's fit to print," Gabriel murmured ironically as he thumbed through the _Capers_. "Huh. Bingo in the lounge at three. Maybe I'll go… you know, try my luck."

"You wouldn't!" Maureen exclaimed, shocked.

"I got you!" he said, smiling and pointing at her. "Ha!"

"'Tisn't a _bit_ funny," she muttered, and put a hand over her mouth. "Oh!" Her eyes widened and she hurriedly crossed herself – surely contradicting the Archangel Gabriel was a sin!

"Let's get some food, hmm? I think we could all use something to eat!" Doctor Langford said, picking up the phone. "What would you like, Gabriel?"

"Coffee – with cream and sugar," he said right away, and then thought for a bit. "Doughnuts. Danishes. Fruit. Anything sweet – you know, with sugar."

"Is that what angels usually eat?" the doctor asked curiously.

"Nah. But right now I need sugar… spontaneous tissue regeneration takes a lot of you, you know?"

"I wish I did!" Doctor Langford said ruefully. "All right, one sugar rush coming up!" He began punching buttons on the phone.

"Oh… and how about another pair of those blue pants?" Gabriel asked, and gestured in the direction of the bathroom. "That other pair's dirty. And wet."

* * *

There was a knock at the door, but it wasn't breakfast. It was Father Xavier. The little priest came hurrying into the room, his eyes widening when he saw that Gabriel was up, about, and dressed only in a white towel. He quickly collected himself and knelt at Gabriel's feet.

"How may I serve you?" he asked, crossing himself and bowing his head.

"C'mon… stop that," Gabriel said, grasping the priest's shoulders and pulling him to his feet. "OK?"

"If you insist," Father Xavier said, not daring to look Gabriel in the eye.

"Yeah, I insist. That gets old real fast… especially when I don't have any clothes on!"

Father Xavier blushed deeply. Doctor Langford laughed, and Maureen fought an unsuccessful battle to stifle her own laughter.

"Here," Gabriel said, steering the priest over to the sofa. "Have a seat. You're making me nervous."

There was a tapping sound coming from the balcony, and Maureen went to investigate.

"There's a man on the balcony," she reported in a disbelieving voice. "And how he got out there I'll never know… but it seems he wants in, for he's knockin' on the door!"

"Who is it?" Gabriel asked, not sounding very interested.

"I've no idea." She peered at their unlikely visitor through the glass that separated them. "He's blond, with a goatee. He's got a long black coat – goodness, but he must be hot out there! – and he's wavin' a stick with a white flag on it."

Gabriel laughed. "Let him in."

"All right," she agreed, and opened the door.

"Well – hello, Gabriel," the new arrival purred, sweeping grandly into the room. "How's every little thing?"

Gabriel gave him a look. "I think you know."

With a frown, Maureen went to sit on the sofa with the priest. Doctor Langford stood leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.

"Boy, are _you_ grouchy, Gabriel!" their new guest observed. "But then, you never were much of a morning person, were you?"

"Do you want something, or are you just here to gloat?"

"Gloating's always fun." The visitor smirked. "Nice towel, by the way." He turned his attention to Doctor Langford. "It's a sin, you know… lusting after an angel." He moved toward the doctor, still talking. "But you know all about _unnatural lust_, don't you, Roger?" His voice dropped lower as he moved closer. "Even back when you were just a young lad off at boarding school, you'd lie awake at night, thinking about the other boys… and _knowing_ it was a sin."

"Aaah, cut it out, Lucifer," Gabriel said, and Maureen and the priest gasped, crossing themselves simultaneously.

"But you've seen what Gabriel's got under that towel, haven't you?" Lucifer continued as though Gabriel hadn't even spoken. "And you think that maybe… _maybe_ it would be a little _less_ of a sin, hmmm?" He moved closer yet, putting his hands on the wall on either side of the human, pinning him to the wall without actually touching him. He leaned in and whispered something that made the doctor's cheeks flush bright with color. "But you know _that's_ what you _really_ want, Roger," Lucifer purred. "And _I_ can give it to you."

"Leave me alone," Doctor Langford said quietly, angrily – and Lucifer laughed as he moved away.

Father Xavier suddenly jumped to his feet, brandishing a crucifix at Lucifer. "Begone, foul fiend!" he roared. "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy – "

"Francis," Gabriel interrupted. "Stop it, OK? He's just here to talk. So sit down."

Faced with a direct order from Saint Gabriel the Archangel, the priest had no choice but to obey… but he didn't look very happy about it.

"That's right, I'm just here to talk," Lucifer agreed happily, and held up his white flag. "See? I'm here under a flag of truce. I'm calling a temporary cease fire, all right?" he asked, waving it at the priest in an exaggerated manner.

"And _you_," Gabriel continued, pointing at Lucifer. "Behave yourself. You're already in enough trouble."

"Oh, no – you're not pinning this on _me_!" Lucifer protested. He tossed his flag aside and flopped down on the sofa between Maureen and the priest, who both recoiled and crossed themselves again. He either chose to ignore their reaction to his presence or was simply oblivious to it. "I had nothing to do with this!" he continued, stretching his arms out on the back of the sofa and putting his feet up on the coffee table. Both Father Xavier and Maureen inched away as surreptitiously as they could manage.

"Jones did this to you," Lucifer reminded Gabriel. "And Jones isn't one of mine."

Gabriel shook his head. "I never know what side he's on, that guy."

"Neither do I," Lucifer agreed. "But…"

"But what?"

Lucifer glanced around and then leaned forward in his seat. "Listen," he began, and lowered his voice as though afraid he might be overheard. "I had a little chat with Raphael last night – "

Gabriel looked surprised. "You _did_?"

"Yeah. Seems Uziel's Upstairs sharpening his knives and muttering darkly about avenging you."

"Oh no," Gabriel said, dismayed.

"It's making Raphael nervous… no one wants another War. Not even me. So he came for a little chat, to see if I knew who the culprit was. I knew it wasn't any of _my_ people, and so Raphael and I put our heads together – "

"And figured out it was Jones," Gabriel finished.

Lucifer beamed brightly. "You got it. But it gets better."

"I'm afraid to ask!"

"While I was talking to Raphael, Beliel came to me. He'd been gossiping with Uriel – "

"Now hold on," Maureen interrupted without thinking. "Are you tellin' me that demons and angels get together for a good gossip session? You _can't_ be serious!"

Lucifer turned to her and smiled. "All the time, my dear. All the time."

"I find that very hard to believe," Father Xavier said stiffly, and now Lucifer's brilliant smile was turned on the priest.

"Why? We were all brothers once, you know. And we may all pretend it doesn't happen, but we all know it does. I know what's going on Upstairs just as well as Gabriel knows what's going on in the basement."

"Probably, yeah," Gabriel agreed. "So, Uriel told Beliel – "

"You want me to wrap this up and get out," Lucifer said, grinning. "You never were very subtle, Gabriel."

"I never said I was. Subtlety just seems like sneaking around to me… and that's more _your_ thing, Lucifer."

"All right. Uriel told Beliel that the rumor is that Jones was acting on Orders when he whacked you on the noggin."

Gabriel looked astounded at this news. "The Boss had just sent me out with an important Message… why would he want to keep me from delivering it? That doesn't make any sense."

Lucifer shrugged. "Don't ask _me_, Gabriel. I don't make the news, I just report it."

There was a knock at the door, and Doctor Langford went to answer it.

It was a young, handsome, well-tanned blond man in the matching red white and blue shorts and tee shirt of a Carnival crewmember. He had a new pair of blue sweatpants draped over one arm and was pushing a cart piled high with pastries and fruit.

"Hello, Terry," the doctor said, looking surprised. "I didn't expect you to bring this personally!"

"I wanted to see the angel," the blond man said shyly, peeking past Doctor Langford to stare at Gabriel.

"Yes, naturally," Doctor Langford agreed with a sigh. "You and everyone else on board!" He ushered the young man into the room. "This is Terry Marshall, our cruise director."

"Terry," Gabriel acknowledged with a nod. "I see you brought me new pants!"

"I did," the young man agreed, offering them. "Are you really… really…?"

"Really what?" Gabriel asked, taking the pants.

Terry's voice dropped to a whisper. "Really the Archangel Gabriel?"

"Yeah, that's me."

Terry looked awestruck.

"And I'm really the Archangel Lucifer," the blond man on the sofa put in.

Terry blinked. "You… you're…" he sputtered.

Lucifer grinned gleefully. "The Devil – that's me!"

"But you sound so _happy_ about it!" Terry said without thinking, and Lucifer laughed.

The fallen angel put a finger to one cheek and mockingly traced the path of an imaginary tear. "Yes, but I'm crying on the inside," he assured the human, and no one present was certain if it was a joke.

"I see," Terry finally said, at a loss for words.

Gabriel decided that this might be a good time to change his attire. As he passed the breakfast cart on his way to the bathroom, he grabbed a doughnut. "Thanks for the food, Terry," he said through a mouthful of pastry as he went into the bathroom to change.

* * *


	3. Make A Wish

"The Kindness of Strangers"

Chapter 3

"Make A Wish"

* * *

When Gabriel came out of the bathroom, he found Lucifer gleefully tormenting the cruise director. 

"Come on, Terry," Lucifer crooned. "Come sit on my lap, you pretty little thing." His eyebrows went up. "You _know_ you want to."

"I'm afraid that would be inappropriate, sir," Terry said in the smooth but firm tone of one who was accustomed to dealing with sometimes difficult guests.

"Inappropriate?" Lucifer echoed, grinning lasciviously. "Of course it is! I'm all _about_ inappropriate!"

"Leave him alone, Lucifer," Gabriel said, grabbing an apple danish from the breakfast cart.

"Oh, but just _look_ at him, Gabriel – he's beautiful!" His pale blue eyes flicked in Doctor Langford's direction. "Isn't he, Roger?"

The doctor didn't reply, and Lucifer laughed.

"I wish they_ alllll_ could _beeee_ California _boyyyys_…" Lucifer sang, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at the doctor. The human gave Lucifer a look but otherwise didn't respond.

"Don't you have stuff to do?" an exasperated Gabriel asked.

Lucifer grinned. "Ah, there's that subtlety again," he said, rising to his feet. Suddenly, faster than any human eye could follow, he was right in front of Gabriel. "Are you sure you really want me to leave?"

"You know the answer to that."

Lucifer chuckled. He reached out and wiped a bit of apple filling off of Gabriel's lower lip.

"Sweet," he murmured, licking his finger.

Gabriel stared at him for a long moment. "Come home with me," he finally blurted out.

Lucifer's eyebrows went up. "Why, Gabriel… are you _propositioning_ me?" he asked coyly, batting his eyelashes.

Gabriel was astounded that his meaning had been so misunderstood. "What are you, _insane_?" he asked, and then held up a hand. "Wait. Don't answer that."

"Ah… you still haven't given up hope, have you?" Lucifer asked sadly, and Gabriel realized that the other angel hadn't misunderstood after all. "But I'm a hopeless cause, and you do _love_ those. How could I have forgotten that?"

"You forgot a lot of other stuff," Gabriel said with a shrug. "So why not that too?"

"Oh, but you're wrong, Gabriel," Lucifer said softly, moving even closer so that they were nearly nose-to-nose. He reached out and gently smoothed down a feather that was out of place on Gabriel's right wing. "I remember all of the important things," he assured him, preening another imperfect feather with nimble, practiced fingers.

Gabriel's eyes narrowed and he twitched his wing away from Lucifer's reach. "Stop that."

"I remember what it was like to sit at His left hand," Lucifer continued. "And who's sitting there now? Let me think." He put a hand on his chin as though deep in thought. Suddenly he brightened like a person remembering something important, but his voice turned bitter. "Oh yes, that would be _you_, wouldn't it? So I guess you got what you wanted when you helped Michael kick me out."

"You _know_ that's not how it happened." Gabriel said in a low voice.

He suddenly realized that he and Lucifer had a rapt audience of four humans who were hanging on their every word. In fact, Father Xavier was actually scribbling furiously on a piece of Carnival stationery, taking notes.

"You know… Lucifer… maybe we shouldn't talk about this right now," Gabriel said meaningfully.

It took a moment, but finally Lucifer's eyes lit with comprehension. "You could be right," he mused. "What is it these monkeys say? Oh yes… little pitchers have big ears."

"Something like that," Gabriel agreed, meeting Lucifer's eye. "But I want you to know one thing: I may be the most exalted of all angels now, but I've always been second best, second choice."

Lucifer looked surprised, but said nothing.

Gabriel looked at Maureen. "Parents aren't supposed to have favorites, are they?" he asked suddenly.

She blinked. "No, of course not!"

"But they _do_… don't they?" he pressed.

She blushed. "Sometimes… things can be… difficult. You know?"

"No, I don't," Gabriel said. "But The Boss does." He turned his attention back to Lucifer. "You've _always_ been the favorite. Even now, it's – " His voice broke off and he turned away. "You could come home, Lucifer. All would be forgiven."

Lucifer sighed. "Too much water has gone under too many bridges, Gabriel. Even if I wanted to, well…" He shrugged and left the rest unsaid. "Besides, I like my life," he said lightly. "No one tells me to clean my room or make my bed. No one tells me to eat my vegetables. And no one – "

"No one loves you," Gabriel finished bluntly.

"Price you pay for freedom," Lucifer said with a shrug.

"I don't want that kind of freedom."

"All right, Gabriel," Lucifer agreed softly. He grasped Gabriel's shoulder and pulled him around to face him. "I'll be on my way."

Gabriel nodded. "Yeah." He kissed the side of his hand and pressed it to Lucifer's cheek. "See you around, brother."

Lucifer put his hand over Gabriel's, turned his head and kissed it before releasing it. Finally he moved away and shook his head. "No you won't." He turned his attention to the cruise director. "Terry," he said, his voice changing, brightening. "How about giving me a tour of this fine sailing vessel?"

Terry glanced at Gabriel, looking very apprehensive. "Oh…gosh… I don't know if that's such a good idea – "

"Go ahead, take him," Gabriel said with a wave of his hand. "It'll keep him out of trouble."

"That's right," Lucifer agreed. He looked down at the priest. "I came here under a white flag. That means while I'm on this ship, my people are leaving _your_ people alone. No whispering temptation in their ears, no blighting crops, no spreading disease and despair… none of those kind of things."

"You're lying," Father Xavier said automatically.

"No – he's not," Gabriel said. "That's what a white flag means: cease fire."

The priest looked flabbergasted. "So right now, there's no evil in the world?"

"Only the evil that your kind make all on their own," Lucifer said. "And there's plenty of _that_, isn't there?"

"I'm afraid I have to agree with you," Father Xavier said grudgingly.

"Excellent!" Lucifer exclaimed happily, clapping his hands. "We agree about something!" He leaned over and grasped the priest's arm, pulling him unwillingly to his feet. "_You_ can come too," he decided, and glanced slyly at Gabriel. "Help keep me out of trouble."

"Why am I starting to think this is a really bad idea?" Gabriel asked no one in particular.

"Come on," Lucifer was saying, taking the priest's arm and steering him towards the door. "Let's go to the pool and look at all the pretty girls!" He hooked his other arm through Terry's, still moving, still talking. "_And_ the pretty boys!" And with that, they were out the door.

"Thought they'd never leave," Gabriel muttered as the door closed.

Maureen exhaled explosively and crossed herself. She tried to pray, but couldn't; instead, she put her head in her hands.

Gabriel took a mug from the dessert cart and poured out some coffee from the carafe. "Here," he said, offering it to her. "You look like you could use some."

She looked up at him, surprised. "That's very kind, thank you."

"Have a doughnut, too," he continued, pressing one into her free hand. "They sent enough to feed a whole choir of seraphim."

"Gabriel," Doctor Langford said quietly.

"Yeah, you have some too," Gabriel agreed, pouring out another cup of coffee. "Here."

"That's not…" The doctor sighed and took the coffee. "I want you to know that I don't… ah… lust after you. You're my patient, and it would be _entirely_ inappropriate for me to – "

"Aaaah, who listens to him?" Gabriel asked dismissively. "You think I believe half the stuff Lucifer says? I don't think even _he_ believes half the stuff he says!"

Doctor Langford looked relieved.

Gabriel sipped his coffee and finished off his danish. "And besides, I know your heart just as well as he does. Better, probably – because I'm not always looking for the worst in everyone… or for some kind of weakness to exploit."

"What did he offer you, Doctor Langford?" Maureen asked suddenly, looking up at him. "In exchange for your soul?"

"I don't think I want to answer that," he said rather stiffly.

"Must've been a doozy, then," she said, sipping her coffee.

"Yes," the doctor agreed quietly, looking down at the coffee cup in his hand. "It was."

"So," Maureen said, setting her cup down on the table. Her voice took on a bitter edge. "I guess we've discovered something else the priests are wrong about."

Gabriel took another danish, grabbed his coffee mug and hopped up to perch on the back of the armchair across from the sofa. "What's that?" he asked.

For a moment she was so astounded to see him perched there like a giant bird that his question didn't register. "Oh," she finally said. "About the homosexuals… that they're all going to Hell." She looked up at the doctor and smiled. "If it were true, he'd not have bothered with tryin' to bargain for your soul; he'd already have it, wouldn't he?"

Doctor Langford blinked. "Yes…" he said slowly. "I suppose you're right."

"So," she said, sounding satisfied. "They're wrong."

"And that makes you happy," the doctor observed. "Why is that?"

Gabriel watched this exchange with interest, not interfering. It was almost as though they'd forgotten he was there.

"My oldest child… you've not met her. She's… well, she's sick, and the priest told me I was bein' punished – for marryin' a Jew… and for havin' a child that wasn't my husband's."

"My goodness," Doctor Langford murmured. "You're full of surprises, Maureen."

"I was already pregnant when I met Ben," she said. "So it's not what you're thinkin'. I was seventeen and unmarried, and my parents shipped me off to New York to live with my aunt and uncle, so no one would know. I was to have the child and give it up – but instead, I met and married Ben." She sighed. "They've never forgiven me."

"Their loss," Doctor Langford said quietly.

"And that's how I became Maureen O'Connor Finkelstein," she said, holding up her left hand to show her gold ring. "And you'll never find an odder name than that!"

Gabriel smiled. "I think it's a good name," he said – partly because he truly thought so, and partly just to see her blush. "And you lost your faith in the church…"

"Please forgive me, Saint Gabriel," she whispered, crossing herself.

He cocked his head at her. "For what?" he asked curiously.

"For losing faith – "

"What? In the church? The church isn't God… no matter what some of the people in charge might think. In fact, I was on my way to the Vatican when I got whacked on the head. You got a new guy in there and The Boss wants me to set him straight on some stuff."

Maureen was so astonished by this news that she couldn't even begin to address it.

"Sometimes people need a little reminder of who's _really_ in charge," Gabriel continued.

"Yes," Doctor Langford said thoughtfully. "One doesn't see many burning bushes or pillars of fire nowadays… I suppose it's easy for some of the higher-ups to forget that the church isn't all about _them_."

"Exactly," Gabriel agreed. "The Boss looked down and saw some stuff going on that He didn't like and decided a wake-up call was in order."

As if on cue, the phone rang. Doctor Langford went to the desk to answer it.

"And _you're_ the wake-up call," Maureen said, smiling. "Aren't you?"

"Yeah. But don't get me wrong – I'm not gonna show up raining down fire and destruction. I'm just supposed to _talk_ to the guy."

Maureen nodded. "Oh, that'll be enough!"

Doctor Langford concluded his brief conversation and hung up the phone. "That was your husband, Maureen."

"Oh?"

"He wanted to know how things were, and if it was all right to stop by – your daughter Brigid is quite worried about Gabriel and wants to see him." He smiled at his unlikely patient. "I told him that I think you're up to having visitors."

"Yeah, that's fine," Gabriel agreed. "I really do have to take off soon, though. When'll I get my clothes back… and my trumpet?"

Doctor Langford looked at his watch and shrugged. "Any time now, I'd imagine. We sail in a few hours." He thought for a moment. "We're headed for Rome, you know. You _could_ just stay on board."

"How long?"

"We'll arrive early Sunday morning."

Gabriel frowned. "And today's…?"

"Tuesday," Maureen supplied.

"Are you _kidding_? I can't hang around – on a _cruise ship_! – for five days when I'm supposed to be delivering an important Message! The Boss'd have my head on a plate!"

The doctor shrugged. "Well, it was only a thought."

"I doubt it," Maureen said suddenly. "The bit about your head on a plate, that is. If He didn't have Lucifer's head on a plate, He'll have no one's!"

"You got a point," Gabriel admitted. "Anyway… you know… it's just an _expression_."

She smiled at him. "I know." There was a knock at the door. "Probably Ben," she mused, rising to answer it.

A moment later, Brigid came skipping into the room. When she saw Gabriel perched on the chair like a bird, she came to a sudden halt, her mouth making a silent "O" of surprise.

"Hi," Gabriel said, smiling down at her. "Did you have fun at Camp Carnival this morning?"

She frowned. "How did you know I was at Camp Carnival?"

"I know everything," he told her, and she nodded solemnly.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," she said earnestly.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Me too."

She was quiet for a moment. "Going on a cruise makes people better."

Before Gabriel could ask what she meant, the dark-haired man from the night before was there.

"Hello again," he said. "I'm Ben… Maureen's husband."

"Yeah, I remember," Gabriel said. He surprised the other man by extending his hand as a human would have done. "Nice to see you again."

"Sure," Ben said faintly. He had never thought he'd shake hands with the angel Gabriel. "I brought your towel," he finally said, holding out the neatly folded bloodstained beach towel.

"Oh… thanks. Just put it down somewhere, I guess."

"I'm going down to the Purser's Desk to check on your things," Doctor Langford told Gabriel. "All right?"

"Yeah, that'd be great, Roger – thanks!"

"Where's Margaret?" Maureen asked as she sat down on the sofa with Ben.

"Asleep," he replied. "She was out all night with some kids she met."

Maureen frowned. "Doing what?"

Ben shrugged. "Dancing, I think." He smiled sadly. "She said she had fun, and that's what counts. Right?"

Maureen nodded silently.

Brigid got herself a pastry from the breakfast cart and sat down in the armchair near Gabriel's. "You look like a bird," she suddenly announced.

"Brigid!" Maureen scolded, mortified.

"Well, he _does_!" Brigid protested.

Gabriel shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I do. It's the wings, right?"

"Uh huh. And how do you sit like that without falling?" the child wanted to know.

"Dunno… I never thought about it."

"Well, _I_ couldn't sit like that," she told him. "I'd fall over!"

"I have good balance," he said with a smile.

"You sure do," Ben agreed, eyeing Gabriel. "I've never seen anyone sit like that!"

"Are you sure she was all right?" Maureen asked, obviously picking up a previous conversation.

"Yeah, Honey, she was fine," Ben said, sounding a bit exasperated. "She's sleeping, OK?"

"So she was tired," Maureen worried.

Ben rolled his eyes. "You'd be tired too if you'd been out dancing all night!"

Brigid caught Gabriel's eye. "When we get to Rome, Margaret will be all better. That's why we came on this trip."

Gabriel frowned, for he knew that nothing on Earth would make Margaret better. "Did they tell you that?" he asked, gesturing at her parents, who were still discussing the other child.

"No. I figured it out all by myself. She got to make a wish, so I made one too. I wished that she'll be better… so she will. She got her wish, and I'll get mine."

"Ah," Gabriel said, not really understanding her logic.

"There's a group called Make-A-Wish," Ben explained. "They grant wishes to… ah, kids in need." His eyebrows went up significantly. "You know. _Special_ kids."

"Yeah," Gabriel said, understanding. Clearly, Maureen and Ben didn't want Brigid to know the whole situation.

"Margaret wanted to go on a big boat," Brigid put in, gesturing expansively. "And this is her wish."

Gabriel suddenly realized that Maureen was watching him, her green eyes bright with tears. "Saint Gabriel, would you do something for me?"

He thought he knew what she was going to ask, but she surprised him.

"Would you pray for Margaret? Would you ask God to heal her?"

"Yeah, I will," he promised, and she smiled and wiped her eyes. There was a knock on the door and she rose to answer it.

"I've got your things, Gabriel," Doctor Langford announced. He had a bundle of clothing covered with plastic draped over one arm and was carrying a shiny trumpet in his other hand.

"That's great!" Gabriel said, standing and jumping down from his perch. "Now I can go see that guy – thanks a lot!"

The doctor smiled. "Any time."

"Did you see Lucifer and his new pals?" Gabriel wondered, taking the laundry from the doctor and setting his trumpet on the coffee table.

"Yes, actually I did," he replied, smiling. "They're in Piano Man, having the time of their lives. Did you know Lucifer plays the piano?"

"Yeah, I did," Gabriel said with a little laugh.

"And he seems to know every song ever written – he's got quite a crowd in there, and he's taking requests!"

Gabriel just shook his head, smiling.

"You love him, don't you?" Maureen said quietly.

Gabriel was shocked. "What? Lucifer?"

"Yeah, Lucifer."

He began to protest, but she just gave him a look. "Yeah, OK, I love him," he finally admitted. "He's my brother."

She nodded, seeming satisfied.

"Look, I'm gonna go change," he said. "And then I gotta take off."

"We'll be sad to see you go," Maureen said.

"Thanks, Maureen."

He went into the bathroom to change.

* * *

When he came out, he was gratified to see the humans staring at him in awe; clearly he once again looked the part of Messenger of God. 

"Wow, you look like a _real_ angel now," Brigid said, as though reading his mind. "Like you'd see in a painting."

"Thanks, Kiddo," he said, patting her head.

He went to the nightstand and began gathering up his belongings; a little bottle of blessed oil, an ornately calligraphied Bible, and a small dagger. He quickly secreted these items in interior pockets of his long dark blue brocaded cloak. His silver chain link belt was sitting there too, and he picked it up and looped it around his waist, then glanced up at the mirror over the bed.

"Perfect," he decided, smoothing down his cloak. "Now I just need my trumpet – "

"Here," Brigid said, appearing by his side and offering the instrument.

"Great," he said, taking it and attaching it to his belt. "How's that?"

She nodded her approval. "Yeah, just like a painting of an angel!"

"I have to agree," Doctor Langford put in, shaking his head. "I wouldn't believe it if I weren't seeing it with my own eyes!"

There was a knock at the door and the doctor went to see who it was.

"So you're leaving now." Maureen said, standing. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, gotta go. You know how it is." He reached out and grasped her hand. "Thanks for everything, Maureen. You were a great nurse!"

She blushed deeply. "I was honored to help you!"

Doctor Langford walked over with a teenage girl following shyly behind. "Gabriel, this is Margaret," he said.

Margaret's green eyes widened and she crossed herself. "Saint Gabriel," she murmured under her breath.

She looked much as her mother had at that same age, Gabriel mused. Except that her mother hadn't been almost translucently pale… and her mother had had a thick head of coppery red hair. Margaret, on the other hand, wore a multicolored scarf tied around her head, left bald by futile medical treatments.

"It's good to meet you, Margaret," Gabriel said, smiling. "You almost missed me… I was about to take off."

"You're God's Messenger," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Yeah, that's me," he agreed.

"Will you give Him a message from me?"

Gabriel cocked his head, studying her. "Sure," he finally said. He was as curious as everyone else present what this message might be.

"Tell Him I'm not afraid," she said. "Not anymore… not since I saw _you_."

Gabriel nodded once. "Yeah, I'll tell Him." He opened the door to the balcony and stepped outside into the bright Mediterranean sunlight. He stood there for a moment, letting The Word fill him… and he suddenly knew why Jones had knocked him on the head.

He turned back. "Maureen," he said.

She came forward, looking puzzled. "Yes?"

"Make a wish," he said softly.

"I don't – " she began.

"Ben _will_ dance at her wedding," Gabriel told her. "I promise." He kissed two fingers and waved his hand at Margaret. "Shhh."

The sunlight became bright, overpowering. The humans squinted, looking away from the brilliance.

When they could see again, Gabriel was gone.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES: The song "California Girls" belongs to the Beach Boys. 

The Make-A-Wish Foundation is a real charitable organization dedicated to granting the wishes of terminally ill children. Do a Google search for their website – it will make you cry.

* * *


	4. Epilogue I: Sympathy For The Devil

"The Kindness of Strangers"

Epilogue 1

"Sympathy For The Devil"

* * *

It was the last night of the cruise; tomorrow they would dock in Rome and fly back to New York, and then on to Pittsburgh. The suitcases had been packed and the request for the early morning wakeup call had been placed.

While her husband and daughters were getting ready for bed, Maureen went to the Lido Deck for a cup of tea.

She stood in Emil's, holding the warm mug and staring out the windows into the darkness, vaguely aware of the music playing outside on the Lido Deck.

_He's out there somewhere, right now,_ she thought. She closed her eyes and prayed: _God grant you safe flight, Saint Gabriel._

"All packed?" a familiar voice inquired solicitously, and she jumped in surprise.

Lucifer was standing right next to her, holding a mug of coffee and staring out into the night.

"Get away from me!" she said, backing away and holding her mug of tea as though she might throw it at him.

"Uh uh – bad monkey!" he chided, and held up a little stick with a flag on it. "White flag, remember? I just want to talk."

"About what?" she asked suspiciously.

"Come on," he crooned, beckoning her to come stand at his side. "I don't bite."

"No, I'm sure you do _worse_ than bite!"

"Not tonight. I'm not here to hurt you – or anyone else."

Still looking suspicious, she moved to stand next to him. They were silent for a moment.

"What will you do now?" he finally asked.

"Why do you want to know?"

He looked exasperated. "Listen, let's pretend for a minute that I'm not the Devil. Let's pretend that I'm just another passenger on this cruise ship. OK?"

"I can't do that."

He frowned. "Why not? I can."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "You can pretend you're not the Devil? That you're a human?"

"Ah, Maureen. To be human… to have a soul…" He looked sad for a moment, but quickly recovered. "So. Pretend I'm human and talk to me. What will you do now?"

She sighed. "You know, I hadn't really thought," she admitted. "These last few years have been so terrible… it'll be nice to have some peace."

Lucifer shook his head. "I wouldn't know."

She watched him out of the corner of her eye. "You chose your path," she finally said, sounding more like she was reminding herself of that fact than him. "I shouldn't be feelin' a bit sorry for ya."

"But you do," he said softly.

"Can't help it," she agreed. They were silent for a moment, listening to the music drifting in from the Lido Deck.

"Saint Gabriel said – " she began.

"Gabriel says a lot of things," Lucifer said dismissively.

"He's not a liar," Maureen said firmly. "And you'll never convince me that he is!"

"No," Lucifer agreed softly. "He's not a liar."

"There's hope for you, you know. Yes, even for _you_. God's never stopped loving you, never stopped hurting since you left His side."

"Do you really believe that?" he asked curiously.

"I've never lost a child, but I almost did. And I can't imagine how I ever would've coped if Saint Gabriel hadn't – " Her voice broke and she took a deep breath, collecting herself. "So yes, Lucifer. I do believe it. When you left Him, you broke His heart. But He's your Father, and you're his child… nothing will ever change that." She looked up at him, finding the courage to meet his eye. "You could go home, and be welcome."

"No," he said in a low voice. "Not me."

She sighed and went back to staring out the window, listening to the music from outside.

Much to her surprise, she found herself thinking that Lucifer seemed more sad than evil. She thought about how she would feel if one of her children renounced her family, turned away from the Light…

She closed her eyes and felt the tears slip down her cheeks. It was all so sad, so unbearably sad…

She felt a gentle touch on her face and turned to see Lucifer licking her tears from his finger.

He smiled sadly. "Sugar and salt."

He set his empty mug down on a nearby table and turned to go.

She reached out and grasped his arm, stopping him.

"I'll pray for you," she promised.

"You'd do that?" he asked, his voice full of wonder.

"Of course. We're supposed to pray for the souls of our fellow sinners, and I'd say you're at the top of the list!"

His lips quirked in an ironic smile. "I don't have a soul to be saved, Maureen."

"Doesn't matter." She was astounded by the sudden rush of maternal feeling she had; it was all she could do not to reach out and straighten his collar and admonish him to keep warm. Keep warm, indeed – oh, the irony! "I'll pray for you all the same, Lucifer," she finally said.

"It won't do any good."

"Well, it certainly can't hurt," she pointed out.

"No, I guess it can't." He kissed two fingers and extended them in her direction: an angel's blessing, a blessing that he was no longer entitled to give. "Goodbye, Maureen."

She didn't watch him leave, but instead turned back to the window to contemplate the darkness beyond the ship's lights.

After a moment, she leaned her forehead against the glass and sobbed.

* * *

And though she kept her promise and prayed for him every day for the rest of her life, Maureen O'Connor Finkelstein never saw Lucifer again – neither in this life, nor in the next.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…

* * *


	5. Epilogue II: Giving Thanks

"The Kindness of Strangers"

Epilogue 1

"Giving Thanks"

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry this has been so long in coming – I've been sick with bronchitis since October and haven't really felt like writing until today!

* * *

Whenever he had the chance, Gabriel came to Earth, to the plane of existence where humans lived. He liked to watch them, often spending hours sitting on a park bench or in an uncomfortable chair in an airport. Or he'd walk the streets of a major city: London, New York, Chicago, Denver. It didn't matter, as long as there were lots of people.

Ironic, really – he'd spent so many centuries hating and resenting these people for even existing, for holding a special place in The Creator's heart. But now, having lived as one of them, he understood. Though they may enjoy The Boss's favor, their short lives weren't easy. So much suffering and illness and uncertainty, things that angels never faced, never worried about.

The place he had come to today was called Cleveland. It was snowing here now, big fat fluffy flakes. Gabriel briefly allowed himself to feel the cold, and actually shivered as an icy wind from the lake whipped his long black coat around him. Disappointingly, the streets were almost deserted today. _Must be the weather keeping everyone inside,_ he mused.

On Euclid Avenue, there was a convenience store where Gabriel sometimes bought the local paper. He looked in the window and saw that it was empty aside from the clerk, a young freshmen at Case Western Reserve who hoped to be a doctor one day. Her head was bent over a thick textbook, her long black hair curtaining her face. When he pushed the door open, the little bell above it jingled and she looked up at him and smiled.

"Hey you," she said. It was what she always said when she saw him; he had no idea why.

"How's it going?" he asked, taking a copy of _The Plain Dealer_ from the newspaper rack.

She shrugged. "Pretty quiet today."

"Yeah, I noticed." He put the paper on the counter and dug around in his pocket for change. "Didn't see too many people out there."

She shrugged again. "Thanksgiving."

"Ah." He had completely forgotten about the holiday.

She peered past him, out the window. "Damn," she said quietly. "He's back."

"Who?" Gabriel turned to look and saw a homeless man huddled in the doorway, seeking shelter under the overhang. He wore a long, tattered coat and a hat was jammed down on his head. Strands of gray hair poked out here and there around the edge.

"Cops chased him away three times already," she continued.

"Why not let him stay?" Gabriel asked.

"Mister Henderson doesn't like it… says he's bad for business." Mister Henderson was the owner of the little convenience store. "Not much business today, though," she continued.

Gabriel was still watching the homeless man. "His name's Alan Becker. Used to work in the rubber plants down in Akron, but when they closed back in the seventies, he came up here looking for work. Spent the rest of his life doing odd jobs. When his wife got cancer, he lost everything – money, car, house – paying for her care. Now she's gone and he's homeless."

This wasn't the first time that he'd told her the life story of some random person, and she shook her head. "You make up the most interesting stories about people," she mused, for that was what she thought he was doing. "Tell me mine."

He turned back to her and sighed. He wished she wouldn't ask, but she always did… and his answer was always the same.

"Your story isn't written yet." Which wasn't exactly a lie; things could still change. The Boss sometimes deviated from His Plans for reasons that were known only to Him.

"All right," she agreed, laughing. "Let me know when you finish it."

"Yeah… I'll do that."

The bell above the door jingled as someone else came in. "Boy it's cold out there!" the new arrival said, rubbing his arms and stamping his feet.

"About time you got here, Pete," she said amiably. She made a sweeping gesture, taking in the entire empty store. "Can't you see I'm swamped?"

Pete laughed. "I hope I can handle it all by myself!"

"Yeah, well that's it for me," she said, closing her textbook and stuffing it into her book bag. "I'm outta here."

"Any special plans?" Pete asked as he took off his coat and came behind the counter.

"Back to my apartment for a Swanson's frozen turkey dinner, and then more studying." She suddenly remembered something. "Oh, wait – almost forgot." She quickly rang up the price of Gabriel's newspaper and put his money in the till. "Now you're all set," she told him with a smile.

"Thanks." He folded the paper and stowed it away in an inside pocket of his coat.

"You're going to spend all day Thanksgiving _studying_?" Pete continued, incredulous.

"Yep," she agreed. She pulled on her heavy winter coat and slung the strap of her book bag over her shoulder.

"All work and no play make Jen a dull girl," Pete said, and glanced at Gabriel for confirmation. "Right?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I don't think she's dull."

"See?" she asked, vindicated. She came out from behind the counter and turned briefly to stick her tongue out at Pete.

"It's just not right," Pete persisted. "No one should be alone on Thanksgiving."

"Don't worry, Pete – I'll live!" Her hand was on the door.

_I'll live. _

"Be careful out there," Gabriel said suddenly. "There's… you know… all kinds of people hiding in alleys… waiting to grab young girls like you… and stuff."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You sound like my parents!"

"Your parents are _right_!" he retorted, and she laughed.

"See you guys later!" With that, she was out the door.

"Hey, have a happy Thanksgiving," Pete said as Gabriel followed her out.

"Yeah… uh… you too."

Outside, the angel stood on the sidewalk and watched her until she turned the corner and was out of sight. He would have liked to follow her, but he knew that he wasn't supposed to interfere in The Boss's Plans.

Even if it _was_ Thanksgiving.

He knew what that holiday meant to the people who lived on this particular part of the Earth, and he wondered how thankful her family would be, this year and in years to come.

He tilted his head up to look at the sky.

"I've always obeyed, always done what You wanted." His voice was bitter. "But You can't make me _like_ it."

A moment later, the sidewalk was completely deserted. A flock of iridescent white doves fluttered skyward, dancing between the fat white snowflakes that continued to fall.

* * *

_There were hands grabbing her tearing her coat her clothes hurting her please don't please stop oh please a knife –_

Jen stood in the alley, watching the three men who were crouched over a young woman lying in the bloodstained snow. They were doing terrible things to the poor woman, but for some reason she wasn't very concerned about it. It didn't have anything to do with _her_, after all.

She gradually became aware of a presence behind her, and she turned and looked into the blinding white light surrounding the Angel of Death.

And understood everything.

"Hey you," she said, and smiled.

* * *

Later, Gabriel stood on a large snow-covered porch on another street in another city, this one called Pittsburgh. The streets here were just as deserted as the place he had recently left, but this area – Shadyside, it was called – was quiet and suburban.

He wondered briefly what he was doing here, what had compelled him to come to this place.

_No one should be alone on Thanksgiving._

It wasn't his holiday, but he found that he didn't want to be alone nonetheless… nor did he particularly want the company of his own kind at the moment. They had never lived as a human and so they just wouldn't understand.

He put his finger out and pressed the button by the door. He heard the faint chime of the doorbell from within the house, and then approaching footsteps and the sound of the door being unlocked.

The door opened, and Ben Finkelstein stood there, regarding him with a puzzled expression. He obviously didn't recognize Gabriel in the guise of a mortal, without his wings and his elaborate robes.

"Can I help – " Ben began.

A little red-hair girl came running into the foyer, eager to see who had come to visit. When she saw the angel, her eyes widened in surprise.

"Gabriel!" she exclaimed happily, and threw her arms around his waist.

"Hey, Kiddo," he said, patting her head.

Gabriel saw recognition fill Ben's eyes. "Please, come in," he invited, ushering the angel inside, into cozy, reassuring warmth and the tantalizing aromas of cooking food.

"I hope I'm not imposing – " he began.

"Don't be silly – everyone will be glad to see you!" Ben assured him.

"Thank you."

"Maureen!" Ben called over his shoulder. "Better set another place at the table!"

FINIS.


End file.
